High Spirits
by mimsygoblin
Summary: After Corypheus is defeated, the Inquisitor goes to visit her clan. A human and more mature Cole joins her in this journey, and the Inquisitor finds herself pining after him. SMUT WARNING. Lavellan/Cole romance.
1. Chapter 1

The year following the defeat of Corypheus proved to be a busy one. As Josephine promised, there were galas to attend, nobility clambering for her attention, the rise of Leliana as Divine Victoria and the forces required to keep peace when the mages were freed to walk their own paths. This, and so much more.

For a time, all her traveling companions remained save Solas to aid in closing stray rifts and wrap up unfinished business. Then, one by one, they all left to continue walking their own paths.

Blackwall left to join the wardens and to help them rebuild. He was also sent to let them know they were welcome back to Orlais now that Corypheus was defeated and would not be corrupted.

Vivienne started her own school for magic in Orlais, one more in line with her own ideals. She was not alone in her beliefs, and she took in her own branch of uncorrupted templars to join in the ranks.

Cassandra sought to rebuild the Seekers, and established her own fortress in doing so. She worked closely with the Inquisition, recruiting hopefuls from its ranks and occasionally employing Cole's help to determine whether said hopefuls were qualified. She did not want darkened hearts to sully the ranks again.

Varric returned to Kirkwall to write, though he did return to visit occasionally.

Dorian took his time returning to Tevinter. The changes he wished to make were...unwelcome to many, and thus took careful preparation. He built careful alliances and bided his time. He still lived in Skyhold, but his trips to Tevinter were growing more frequent.

Sera never left, and had stuck around to make sure the Inquisition "didn't get their swelling heads stuck up their expanding arses."

The Iron Bull ran his merc company out of The Herald's Rest, becoming a semi-permanent addition to Skyhold's forces. If the Inquisition required his talents, he took their jobs. If there were no jobs for him there, he took others so long as they were not for any enemies of the Inquisition.

Cole stayed, only leaving where it would help the most. He helped Cassandra to make sure only those with good hearts and intentions joined the Seekers. He also spent a great deal of time aiding in the recovery of the Templars who sought after Cullen's example and stopped taking lyrium. After how easily their ranks became corrupted, a distaste grew for non-mages taking the stuff.

Cullen and Josephine remained at their posts, the Left and Right hands of the Inquisition.

On one of Varric's visits, he had spent a long time speaking with Cole, who could not help but wonder what sort of person he was becoming, and if he was truly free of the threat of becoming a demon. Just how human had he become?

"When I was clean before, when I could forget, I never wondered about the future. The future is a distant thing, and it isn't now, it doesn't need thoughts because it will happen. Helping is here and now so I didn't think beyond it. I still want to help, but I wonder about the future me and if I will still help. I'm more real now, so I don't know what it could mean," he tried to explain to Varric over drinks. Rather, he explained while Varric drank.

"The future. That's a big one to pick up, yeah. I suppose you just keep learning and growing. Sometimes that means that over time, you change," the dwarf gestured. "But that doesn't mean you'll turn into a demon. You'll just be a...different you."

Cole frowned, clearly confused. "How do I become a different me? Is it like when I became Cole?"

Varric shook his head. "No, no...I mean. Maybe?" He shrugged. "I guess you could be around for a long time. I mean, do you even age?"

"I could try. Would that give me a beard, like Blackwall?"

Varric laughed. "Sure! If you...I mean, _can_ you though? That would make you pretty damn human."

Cole thought for a moment. "I will, then. Is that what you mean by a different me? Aging?"

Varric sighed, "I'm going to need another drink for this."

...

The change happened over the next few months. Every time Cole came back to Skyhold he looked a little older. When stubble started forming on his face, he very enthusiastically sought out the Inquisitor, who he found passing through the gardens.

"I have stubble now. It will be a beard," he proclaimed proudly, suddenly at her side.

She was startled at first. "Creators, Cole!" With a sigh of relief, she examined what he was so happy about, like a parent humoring a child. "That's certainly coming along. You…" she studied him more closely for a moment. "You seem older."

"Yes. I am a different me all the time, but the same me inside. I can be different and help," he explained.

The Inquisitor lifted her eyebrows. "I...see."

"Different, foreign, faces appearing and disappearing in smoke, lost in the fog. I can still hear the voices and see them, but when it's real it's wrong. Where is my family?" Cole murmured. "Don't worry, they won't forget you. I don't, and I'm glad. You don't have to feel alone because they're not gone, and you can see them. They will always be there for you."

The elf maiden set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Cole. I miss everyone, but we all have our own paths to walk. The world needs help, and we all do different things to help it."

Cole smiled fondly at her. "I like that you help."

"I know. And I like that you help."


	2. Chapter 2

Gathering up her things, Lavellan readied for her journey. It has been some time since she had worn her armor, it's weight comforting in way. With sword, shield, and satchel, she made her way to the gates.

It worried Cullen to no end that she was setting out on her own, but she had replied, "If I can take down a darkspawn God and his dragon, I'll probably be able to handle anything else out there, Cullen."

Bull was out on a trip, Cole was out with Cassandra, and Sera...well. Being as she was going out to visit her clan, she highly doubted Sera would want to tag along for "elfy shite."

So the Inquisitor set out alone, bearing no mark of her affiliation or rank. And by the grace of the Creators, no one would recognize her and she could take a break from the Inquisition for just a little bit.

It was just beyond the gates that she would realize someone was walking beside her.

The hat gave it away immediately, but he looked so...different. Where she had last seen a boy weeks ago, there now stood a man. His hair was paler now, almost white, and a touch shorter than it had been. A trim beard was thick over his face, more so at his chin. He was certainly not very advanced in years, but he just looked so...adult. It was so different, and it was taking her a moment to adjust.

"I am still me, and I still help," he said simply, a silken, smooth depth to his voice now. "He would have liked to be like this when he got older, so I did."

She walked onward while she thought on this, and after several moments accepted it and moved on. "Well, it looks quite fine," she finally approved. "Are you...joining me?"

"Traveling, like we used to. It's wrong when it's alone, but it's still good to go. Faces and family pull from many directions, but this one is steady. It won't feel lost there," he murmured. Glancing her way, clear eyes peering from under his hat, "Yes. You are visiting your people, but you didn't really want to go alone. I came to help."

The elf flashed a crooked smile. "It helps. Thank you, Cole."

...

The journey was long to the Free Marches. They would take the winding mountain path down to the water, then travel along the shore to the shipyard before sailing to Kirkwall. The Inquisitor also figured that while they were in Kirkwall they could visit with an old friend. Cole liked the idea, of course.

Much of the trip was spent in silent companionship. At times there were bandits and highwaymen, but they were generally no match for the pair. Lavellan would charge in with her sword and shield, all fire and blazing fury. Cole would sweep in behind them, felling them while they focused on her. They generally never even saw him until it was too late.

As they travelled, she found herself watching Cole more than appropriate. It was entirely unintentional at first. One minute she'd be deep in thought, the next she would realize she'd been staring. Then she started really studying him. He seemed different now, but at the same time not at all. He was learning so much about being real that he was becoming more real by the day. A realness the Inquisitor felt entranced by.

"You like how I look," he would finally comment a few days later.

She would immediately stop, face beet red. "Andraste's ass," she swore under her breath. "I...yes. I do."

"You keep looking at me," he stated matter-of-factly. "You are happy, yet it makes you hurt. I don't understand."

"I'd rather not talk about this," she worried at her lip, continuing onward a few paces ahead of him, flushed deep with embarrassment.

"You want to do the things to me that Varric wants to do with the tavern girl, only the other way around. You've been thinking about it, and it makes you hurt a little. You feel guilty for it," he continued, following behind at a steady pace. "It isn't wrong to like it. You don't have to feel guilty."

Lavellan peered down at her hand, the glow of the Anchor ever-present. It would be easy to just slip into the Fade and die of embarrassment there. It was only a gesture away. "Cole...please…" she whispered, tanned cheeks darkened with color.

Cole's shoulders slumped, feeling utterly crushed and defeated. "I did it wrong. This was easier when I could start over."

She knew he was trying to help, and she couldn't help but feel a little bad that he could not despite his best effort. She stopped, facing him, but not meeting his gaze. "No, it's...I know what you're trying to do, and your intentions are good. Thank you for that. This is just rather embarrassing. I…" she drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. "I do like the way you look. You've become quite attractive. I suppose it's just loneliness."

"You don't have to feel lonely. I'm here so you aren't alone," he insisted.

She smiled weakly. "It's a different sort of lonely. I will be alright. Let's keep onward."

Cole followed without another word.

...

When they reached the shipyard, they decided to stay the night at the tavern there before taking the ship down. It had been some time since she'd slept in a real bed, and she wanted one last chance before being confined to a cabin on the water.

She rented only one room, as Cole did not sleep. When she finally sank into the thing, she set a pillow on her face and groaned loudly into it.

The trip had been awkward for her since their conversation. Her thoughts about him had been becoming...rather impure, and for him to comment on it? Some things ought to stay private!

Why was she fixating on this now? Because he'd changed a little to look older? Because they were traveling alone? Because she was feeling more alone than she thought? All the above?

She tossed and turned, trying her best to get to sleep. When the attempts failed, she rolled onto her back in frustration.

She decided to try her usual trick for quieting the brain for sleep. She slid her hand under her smallclothes, fingertips brushing over her button. With a sigh, she rolled it between her fingers gently. Bottom lip caught on her teeth, her other hand venture under her brazier to pinch at her taut nipple.

Purring, she slid her fingertips over her opening, stirring up sensitivity in her tender folds. It burned like slow fire, sending goosebumps over her flesh.

Thoughts of Cole slipped into her mind. How tender and tentative he might be as a lover. How deft the long fingers of a rogue must be, and how pliable she might be under his ministrations.

She stopped herself, hand cupping herself, the other hand lifting to her forehead. She did her best to clear those thoughts from her mind, frustrated, agitated, and perplexed at the situation.

"I can help," a voice whispered in the dark.

She pulled her hands away from her sex, jerking the sheet up to her neck. "Cole!" she cried, half in embarrassment, half in anger. "You can't- I- You..."

"I want...to try," he murmured, a hand smoothing her hair to the side. "You are worried that it isn't for the right reasons, that it would be wrong to me. It isn't wrong. I like you. Let me help."

"I…" she found her resolve wavering, caught in such a vulnerable position.

Cole did nothing yet. He knew she needed to decide herself, that this kind of help needed her to be okay before he started the helping.

"I…" Why was she even considering this? To do...that. With a _spirit_?

But he wasn't exactly that, was he? He'd become something different. And if she wanted it, and he was willing…

That's what it was. Was he willing, or did he want it?

"You want me to want you in the same way. I cannot. I don't even know what to want. I have not helped like this before. I don't know if I like it. But I want to try because you need it," he reasoned. "Maybe I'm doing it wrong again. I'm the one that can help you with this, but I don't know how to help properly."

"Alright," she whispered into the darkness.

The sounds of shuffling and shifting were heard, presumably as Cole stripped out of his clothing. She could not tell for sure, the room being as dark as it was. There was no moon to let any light in and the lamp was across the room, unlit.

With a creak, she felt him climb onto the bed, his weight shifting over her. He seemed so big by comparison to her petite figure, more so as his weight bore down over her. It impressed her how heavy he was. A spirit did not sound like a thing that should weigh anything at all.

A soft, feather-light kiss settled over her lips. She felt paralyzed by its tenderness, afraid to move for fear of breaking some manner of spell. Her mind raced as she considered what she was doing, what she was allowing. She could not tell if it was right or not. She only knew that she wanted his touch.

He kissed her once more, tender and cautious, learning as he moved. His hands cupped her face, thumbs over her cheeks. His lips parted, hers hesitantly with them, a warm tongue seeking out hers. He tasted her, real, salty-sweet, a creature of flesh. She tasted him, sweet and almost floral, a thing pure and untainted.

She wanted to be wanted. He wanted her to feel wanted, so he wanted her so he could make it real. She wanted it to be real.

A hand caressed down her cheek, fingertips over her long neck, then danced circles down her side. He explored her, a symphony of new sensation opening to him. He had touched people before, but not like this. He had seen this in their minds, but it was different somehow.

He leaned back, moving to unlace her brazier to free her breasts. Once bared, he cupped a breast in each hand, thumbs brushing over the sensitive buds standing taut there. She drew in a sharp breath, her back arching into his touch.

The thought of him taking a breast to his mouth flitted across her mind, and the thought was maddening. Of course, it barely registered before he caught it, and broke their kiss to lower himself over her and seek purchase on her nipple.

His warm tongue trailed up the sensitive underside before he caught and suckled gently at her nipple. Salty sweet, tasting of the sun and the earth, of sea and sand and mountain all at once.

The elf whimpered beneath him, hands in his soft, thick hair, embracing him as he helped her.

She wanted so many things of him at once now, it took him a minute to sort it out. He lingered where he was while he did so, plying her breasts with his attention, marveling at how soft she was for someone so strong.

He then moved lower, peeling the bedding away to slide fully beside her, flesh against flesh. He kissed down her belly, tugging down the last of her underclothes to leave her nude beneath him. He set them carefully aside.

She trembled at being so exposed, nervous, frightened, excited and aroused all at once.

He lowered himself further still, faced now with her tufted mound. Her hair there tickled at his nose. His tongue darted out, barely flicking over her pearl, but eliciting a sharp breath in from Lavellan. The wet warmth of his muscle darted out once more, more sure this time, its length swimming wide, slow, and with gentle pressure over her button.

Her legs coiled around his neck, her hands in his hair once more. She writhed as he shaped the outline of her desire with his tongue, attentive and tender.

"Cole!" she gasped, burning tension building to unbearable heights.

She did not want him to stop, so he did not. His tongue was a dancer and her body was its stage. In tune with her thoughts and needs, his skill increased as he danced. He focused on her button now, swirling, occasionally gliding over her folds and opening.

When her climax came, it was sudden, a tsunami that swept over everything and threatened to undo her. She clung to him as she bucked against his mouth, whimpering and mewling in a sweaty mess.

But she wanted more.

" _Cole_ ," she pleaded, legs trembling around his head. Her hands settled on his shoulders, begging him silently to fill her.

He lifted himself, wordlessly positioning himself between her legs. Her hips raised to meet him, and a rigid length nestled between her thighs.

He hesitated, unsure of himself. He had not felt arousal before, and feeling it now was an almost disconnected, alien thing. He felt it because he needed to. Blood filled his engorged shaft because it _must._ He took himself in his hand, giving himself one long, experimental stroke, surprised at how it made him _ache_. It was similar to the hurt she felt, but he knew hers was more. More because it was so real it drowned everything else out.

She shifted nervously beneath him, apprehensive at his hesitation. "I-if it's too much, we can stop…"

Cole pressed his tip to her moistened cunt. "No…" he murmured, then sank himself slowly into her.

He could feel her muscles rippling over him, tensing and clenching, undulating with need. Their most intimate parts were embracing, parts that were them, but not who they were, but so close to what was inside that it made everything loud.

He might have been afraid its loudness would turn him into a demon, but he was too human for that now, too real. He already _was._ He could only become a demon if he was not.

The sensation was deafening. It was helping, but it was taking. It was fire, but it was the stillness that settled stormy hearts. He welcomed it in, mind swelling with all he was learning.

His thrusting was slow, languid and purposeful. Hips rocked upward, pressing himself into the parts inside her that made her fall and fly. Repeatedly he rolled forward, hilting himself with a gentle, needy pressure, then drawing out slowly, measuring his experience in each agonizing thrust.

Lavellan's breasts heaved with her breath, unable to be still, unable to be silent. Her powerful legs were around his hips, curling, drawing him in, urging him onward.

She drew him into a hungry kiss, needy and demanding. What he gave in measure, she devoured and sought more. Eventually, she was full to brimming and felt herself erupt once more, more intense than before.

Cole felt an aching tightness, hurting, but not painful. As she clamped down on his length, muscles spasming over him, the tightness snapped free like a dam, unleashing a flood within her. Silent thus far, a muffled cry escaped his lips as he buried his face in her hair.

Eventually he stopped, the pair of them gasping for breath. She felt light-headed from the experience, dizzy from reeling back from such heights of pleasure.

Cole slipped out of her, breath heavy, his mind reeling.

"Creators…" the Inquisitor sighed, closing her eyes. "That…"

"...helped," Cole supplied.

"Yes."

The spirit-turned-man laid beside her, pulling her into a warm and gentle embrace. "Good."


	3. Chapter 3

The sun fell across her face, finally stirring her from slumber. As tucked into warmth and comfort as she was, she was reluctant to get out of bed. It had been weeks since she had slept so well, and his lap was proving to be…

His lap.

The recollection of the night before jolted her awake, bolting her upright. She met Cole's gaze in the cheery morning light, stunned that it hadn't been a dream. Had he really stayed with her through the night? No, he must have gotten up at some point, as he was fully dressed now. Now past her moment of weakness, however, she was beginning to feel entirely awkward.

"You don't know what it meant, and it worries you," he observed. He was sitting at the head of the bed with his legs crossed, looking into her eyes, yet past them, as though he could see her thoughts and worries flitting across her mind like little birds taking wing. "It's alright. You were hurting and I helped. We didn't change. I am still me, and you are still you."

Under his piercing eyes, she became painfully aware of how nude she still was, and she immediately pulled the sheets up to cover herself. Immediately after doing so, she felt it was silly, considering what they'd shared the night before. Maker, he'd had his mouth…. Still. As silly as it was, she couldn't bring herself to drop the sheet.

Thinking on what Cole said, she supposed he was right. She needed something, he provided, and that was the end of it. Though he did it to help her, there was something cold and uncaring about it being left there, as though it had been nothing more than some manner of business transaction.

 _I'd like one hurt removed, please._

 _Ah, very good, madam. One hurt gone. Thank you for your patronage. Next?_

Cole was visibly concerned now, clearly plucking all these thoughts from her head. He gathered them like spiders, wincing at the little bites they inflicted. "I helped one hurt, but it made another hurt. I...did it wrong."

Turmoil wrestled in her chest, making her heart heavy. With great sympathy for his position, she set a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Oh, Cole. You did help. It was what I needed but...it isn't so simple a thing. There can be a lot of meaning in what we did, and sometimes there isn't any at all. Sex is...so complicated. You couldn't have known this would happen. I'm the one who should have known."

"This is a harder hurt to help," the spirit appeared genuinely remorseful. "I thought I could help because the first hurt came from me. You wanted me to fix it, and I tried…"

"Cole," she took his hand in hers. "Sometimes, a little time thinking about it can fix it. Let it be for now, and let's get on with our journey."

"Okay."

...

The journey by boat seemed long. With no bandits or enemies raiding them on the water, and with things still being awkward with her companion, time drug on slowly. Despite the awkwardness, however, she was still glad for his company. They had settled into a companionable silence that Lavellan found she was at peace with for now.

At night was a different story. In the dark when it was quite late, as she lay in her room, rocking to and fro like cradle, she would think of that night. At first, she tried not to for fear it might summon him once more. It did not. As it did not, her mind began to wander.

He smelled like fond childhood memories, sweetness and laughter. If she thought hard enough, she could swear she could still taste him, rolling over her lips and caressing her senses like a promise. Maker, she could _feel_ him still, his long, slow strokes melting her within. There was a part of her that wished it would happen again, that night and every night after. Daylight would spoil her fantasy, leaving her with an unusually silent Cole and the reality of the situation.

Arriving in Kirkwall could not come soon enough. It was a much different city than had been seen years ago. The tall, forlorn statues at its gates were gone, replaced instead by depictions of Andraste. The city had needed something to give them hope after the horror and chaos they suffered through. Like many crisis, it had driven the people into the arms of the Maker.

It was evening when they arrived, the sun bathing the city in a dreamy golden haze as it set over the horizon. Having not spent much time in Kirkwall, it took some time and asking for directions several times before they finally found The Hanged Man.

The buzz of drinking and merriment was overwhelming as they stepped through the door. Apparently, tragedy also drove people to drink.

After a quick scan of the place, there was no sign of Varric. Lavellan thought to ask a bartender or serving girl where he might be, but here Cole took the lead. He took her hand to lead her through the crowd. "I can hear him. This way."

Color crept into her cheeks at his touch, a brief flood of memories pulling her back to that night. She was immediately embarrassed by this, something the spirit seemed to pick up on, as he let go of her hand thereafter.

Led to a room upstairs, they found the door open. The Inquisitor rapped on the doorway politely.

"Come in," Varric called.

Stepping inside, they found the dwarf at a table, papers across the entire thing, a bottle of brandy beside him and a pen in his hand. When he looked up, he set the pen down, standing to greet his guests. "Inquisitor! I haven't seen you in a while. Glad you had the time to stop by! And is that...Cole!?"

"Yes," the spirit chimed in, sounding more cheerful than she'd heard in some time. "I came with so she wouldn't be alone."

"Good to see you, Varric," she greeted him warmly and genuinely. It was better than she had imagined it would be to see him. She missed her traveling companions more than she admit to herself.

"Wow, would you look at that. Kid, you're looking awfully grown up there. You even got that beard you wanted!" he circled around Cole, examining the changes. "Tell me you have time for a drink."

"After I arrange a room, absolutely," she grinned at the thought. A drink sounded _perfect_.

"Nonsense. There's a room here. I'll take care of it. You're my guests tonight!" the dwarf beamed, crossing the room to his own bar stash. "Kid, you drinking yet?"

"No, thank you," Cole politely declined.

"Well, _I_ am," the Inquisitor chimed in. "I'll take his."

After talking for hours, Lavellan eventually retired, leaving Varric and Cole to their own devices. The spirit had been waiting for this, as his head had been jumbled over what had happened when he'd tried to help the Inquisitor.

"Varric," Cole started.

"If I didn't know any better by that tone," Varric poured himself another glass of brandy. "I'd say you've got something on your mind, kid."

"I don't understand," he started, brow knitting in worry. "I tried to help, but I made it very wrong. It made a different hurt."

"You're gonna have to start at the beginning of that story, kid."

Cole thought for a moment, measuring his words, tasting their meanings, then arranging them in ways Varric would understand. "I came to help because she didn't want to travel alone. She liked how I looked, and it made her hurt for me. I tried to help her hurt by lying down with her but it made it worse. There's new hurts now. _Maker, his touch. I don't want to want it, but it's good to be touched, and by his hand_."

Varric was stunned. "Kid, are you saying…"

"We had sex," he said, matter-of-factly. "It was what she needed, the closeness, to help the hurt. But now things are wrong, and now it hurts her to talk to me. It would hurt worse to leave her, but it's still wrong. I didn't do it right."

Rubbing his forehead, he was perplexed. He didn't even think Cole was capable of doing anything like that, let alone with the Inquisitor. What a mess. "Sounds like she was lonely and wanted some company. That ain't the kind of thing you help with willy nilly, kid. Let me guess: she feels bad about it and is confused too."

"Yes." Cole was deeply troubled by this. "And I don't know how to make it right. She thinks I did not know what I was doing. Not really."

"Well, did you?" Varric was genuinely curious himself.

"Yes," Cole crouched beside a wall. The wall the Inquisitor was on the other side of, sleeping off her alcohol. He could almost see her, twisted in linens, one arm above her head, lips slightly parted. He could feel the warmth of her breath, the steady rise and fall of her chest. "I wanted to help. She's always helping others. Always worried for us. I wanted to help her. She wanted me to do it."

The dwarf laughed, finding the situation wonderful and ridiculous at the same time. Didn't that beat all. He was in love and confused, like everyone else.

To Varric, Cole represented the Fade as an involuntary ambassador. Previously, the Fade was a foreign, frightening thing, a source of magic and power and everything messed up in their world. Cole made the Fade seem like the real world; there were good guys, bad guys, and things inbetween. Spirits became something relatable, which comforted the dwarf to no end. "Kid, welcome to being a person. Women confuse the hell out of me sometimes, too. Best thing to do is just talk it out. It sounds like you really care for her."

"Yes."

"Well, did you tell her that?" He couldn't believe it. Cole was having _girl troubles_. If that didn't prove how human the kid had become, then he didn't know what would.

"I told her I wanted to help," Cole explained.

"Oooh," he winced. "Alright. Piece of advice: when it comes to emotional stuff, watch the words you use. Some words, even though they pretty much mean the same thing, can mean really different things in conversations where emotions are concerned. So when you talk to her, try telling her you care about her, and that's why you want to help."

The spirit peered at him from under the brim of his hat. "But I would help if I didn't know her, too."

"Yeah, kid, I know. But you gotta make her feel special. It doesn't mean as much if you do it for just anybody," he tried to explain, hoping this was making some sense to the strange spirit-man. "I mean, would you use sex to help anyone like that?"

When Cole's eyes fell, his head tipped with it, leaving Varric with nothing to see but the top of his hat as he crouched beside the wall. "No," he murmured after some time.

Varric sighed in relief. The kid wasn't hopeless after all. "Can you see the difference now?"

"Yes. Sort of. I think I'm still a little confused, but some of it makes sense." Cole stood, now peering down at the dwarf. "I would not understand if I hadn't become so real."

"That's the fun of these situations, kid," he chuckled, pouring himself another drink. "We all get to be a mess, we all get to be confused, and sometimes it's going to hurt and there wasn't and isn't anything you could do."

"I see," Cole mused on this. "Because the hurts are little, but the help is big."

"Yeah, something like that. Or that's the hope, anyway," Varric nodded. "The thing to remember is that anyone worth being with is going to want to help you too. It helps if you know what you want."

"I want to help."

Varric groaned, "I know, kid. But look…"

The conversation continued well into the wee hours of the morning. Varric did his best to explain the complexity of love, attraction, and relationships to Cole. While there were certain things he did not seem to grasp, he felt confident the kid had the gist of it. The rest would come with time and experience.


End file.
